No Direction Home

By James Baddock

It is the twenty-second century. Chris Vinter awakes aboard a UN starship on its way to Delta Pavonis, carrying two thousand colonists to a new planet, fleeing from an Earth on the brink of nuclear war. They are barely a quarter of the way into their journey and now, as the senior UN Security Officer, he has been awoken from cryogenic sleep to deal with an emergency that threatens everybody on board. All is not as it seems to be, however; within days there is a coup and Vinter finds himself forced to work for one of the power blocs the starship was trying to escape from, as the only way of protecting the colonists in the cryosleep chambers. He also discovers that someone has been tampering with his memories of Earth - and far more than that. He has been Augmented, gene-engineered as a semi-cyborg warrior, programmed to kill on demand, the first of his kind…
He cannot trust his memory, nor can he control his reflexes, or even his allegiances but he is faced with the task of preventing Mankind’s last war in the depths of interstellar space. How is he to achieve this when the only people who can help him know that he could turn against them at any moment?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AUK Authors
• Release date: Jun 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781789821147

Book preview

Chapter 1

It seemed to take Vinter longer than usual to wake up, so that he only gradually became aware of his surroundings; perhaps it was because he was reluctant to tear himself away from the half-remembered impression of a naked woman with blonde hair lying next to him in the bed. She had her back to him, the duvet down around her slim waist, and he very much wanted her to turn over so he could see her face, but the image faded as his eyes finally opened and he began to look around.

Hospital ward... bright light above, drip feed, pricking sensation in my wrist - what do they call it? Canal? Cannula - that’s it... What am I doing here? Can’t remember being in an accident... Concussion?

Why couldn’t he remember? Come to that, what could he remember?

OK, my name is Chris Vinter and I’m an UNSEC Inspector and...

What the hell am I doing here?

Good question... A very good question, actually... Take a look around and sort out exactly where you are.

OK, so it wasn’t a ward, after all. He was in a windowless room, lying on his back in a hospital bed that was surrounded by electronic screens showing various readouts - pulse, respiration, blood pressure, the lot, the kind of state of the art equipment you’d normally only get privately. There were no other beds in the room, so he was getting pretty privileged treatment by the looks of it. None of which helps me figure out where the hell I am, or what’s happened to me...

Abruptly, a door over to his left opened and a dark haired woman in a medic’s outfit came in – no, not the woman in the dream, although I wouldn’t have minded if she had been... Mid twenties, with blue eyes in an attractive face, slim figure and a welcoming smile. ‘So you’re awake, Inspector - about time, if I may say so.’ She ran a quick eye over the monitor screens and nodded approvingly. ‘Physical signs optimal,’ she said, talking into a comp pad; presumably, she was keeping an audio record. ‘Testing recall responses.’

She turned to face Vinter. ‘So, Inspector - do you know where you are?’

He hesitated momentarily, then nodded slowly. ‘I’m having a few problems there, I must admit.’

‘Don’t worry about it - that’s nothing unusual following revival.’

‘Revival?’ Then realisation struck him. ‘I’m on the Terra Nova, right? Have we arrived, then?’ A child asking ‘Are we there yet?’ and adults laughing...

‘Actually no, we haven’t, Inspector.’ A new voice, coming from the doorway; Vinter found himself fighting down an impulse to spring up from the bed - Shit, you startled me... The newcomer was also in medic’s garb, but older than the woman, in his mid forties, probably, Middle Eastern origins, medium height, slightly running to fat - sounds like I’m describing a suspect. ‘Doctor Al-Nashrawi at your service, Inspector.’

‘Delighted to meet you... any chance of something to drink? My throat feels...’ He broke off suddenly, realising what he was about to say.

‘Like a camel-driver’s jockstrap?’ Al-Nashrawi chuckled. ‘I’m not surprised. Ms Novaska–?’

But the medic was already pouring a glass of water from a pitcher; carefully, she held it to Vinter’s lips, pressing down gently on his chest as he tried to sit up. ‘Don’t try moving just yet, Inspector.’

‘I won’t,’ he promised hoarsely. Too right I won’t - I’m as weak as a kitten...

‘Anyway, to continue,’ Al-Nashrawi said briskly. ‘No, we haven’t arrived yet - you’ve been revived early, Inspector.’

‘Right... There’s been some kind of emergency?’

The doctor seemed momentarily surprised, then nodded; perhaps he had not been expecting Vinter to make such a rapid deduction. ‘Apparently there is, but there is no need to worry about that just yet - and, for a second time, stay where you are.’

Vinter realised that, again, he had tried to rise from the bed almost without conscious volition - Conditioned reflex?

‘They told me you would probably react like this, Inspector, but you’re going to have to wait. You haven’t actually eaten anything substantial for eighty-two years, after all.’

‘Eighty-two years? Is that all? We’re not even a quarter of the way there yet and I’m not supposed to be revived until PlanetFall. So - again, what’s going on?’ He noticed Novaska making a rapid note on her comp pad while nodding again, as if in approval.

As before, Al-Nashrawi looked momentarily startled, then inclined his head briefly. ‘I’m afraid that I cannot answer that, because, to be perfectly frank, I don’t actually know. Clearly, there is some sort of emergency, otherwise I myself would not have been awoken at this stage, but my instructions are that, now that you are awake, the first priority is for you to build up your strength before anything else happens.’ He paused as if to let that sink in, then continued, ‘The cannula in your wrist is feeding you right now, giving you all the nutritional requirements you need to even start to walk properly - or don’t you remember the briefings you were given before Departure?’

Vinter nodded doubtfully. Revival was a lengthy process - it would be at least twenty-four hours, probably nearer thirty-six, before he would be able to walk any distance unaided. In the meantime, he would need physiotherapy to stimulate muscles that would have atrophied during cryosleep. But more memories were beginning to surface: he was on a starship, heading out to Delta Pavonis, almost twenty light years from Earth, journey time of three hundred and thirty years, more or less - and there was an emergency just eighty years in? What the hell was going on?

As if answering his unspoken question, Al-Nashrawi said, ‘As I said, someone will brief you on the situation, but not until you are passed as medically fit. Is that clear?’

Vinter nodded slowly, forcing himself to accept the situation. ‘As crystal.’

‘Good. Ms Novaska here will be supervising your rehabilitation and you had better do as she says.’ He smiled briefly. ‘She is not just a pretty face - for this stage of the process, she knows what she is doing far better than I do. I’ll leave you in her very capable hands.’

* * *

He was on a starship... Now, he could finally believe it. He was in the observation gallery, staring out at the stars trying not to gawp like some rubber-necking tourist, sitting on a foam-backed bench facing the huge wall screen that showed the star field rotating slowly around them. In reality, it was only a video projection - installing what would have been a very thick reinforced plexiglass screen to provide the actual view would have been horrendously expensive. There was also the consideration that it would have involved standing on the damn thing and looking downwards, because, given the simulation of gravity provided by the rotating Habitat Section, down was actually towards the hull and up involved facing the hub of the ship. Those kind of thoughts did rather spoil the magic of the moment, he reflected... And, as for being a tourist, well, he was, really; they all were, just passing through on their way to somewhere else. The thing was, he could still see recognisable constellations and stars - Orion’s belt, Sirius, the Plough... But then they hadn’t yet travelled anything like far enough for there to be any perceptible change in the pattern of the stars. True, they were about five light years away from Earth - say about fifty trillion kilometres (or thirty trillion miles as some parts of EarthCorp would put it) - but that was virtually next door in a galaxy that was a hundred thousand light years across. Even so, it was unsettling to realise that, despite the distance they had travelled, the stars still looked pretty much the same. So much for engaging warp drive...

He frowned; where had that flash of memory come from? Warp drive? OK, the notion of faster than light travel had been around since the Twentieth Century, but that particular jolt of memory had been far more specific than that - he had actually heard someone using that phrase somewhere, presumably in a vidscreen entertainment, but when - and where?

‘Impressed?’ Ilona - Ms Novaska - asked him, holding out a bulb of a liquid that was described as coffee; as far as he was concerned, any resemblance was purely coincidental.

‘Thanks,’ he said, taking it from her. ‘And yes, I am.’

‘Me too,’ she said, sitting down next to him and sipping from her own bulb. She had brought him here, to what was known as the Star Lounge, ten minutes earlier; he had managed about half of the journey from the Med Lab under his own steam before he had been obliged to let her support him. She stared at the display for almost half a minute, then shook her head slowly. ‘To think that I’d have missed this if they hadn’t woken me up,’ she said softly. ‘Can we see The Sun from here?’

‘I doubt it. We’re a long way out, after all.’

‘So how far out are we?’

Vinter grinned sideways at her. ‘Is this a genuine question, or are you still checking my recall capabilities?’

‘Both, actually.’ She took out her comp pad and held it in front of her, poised to make an entry, but with a wry grin on her face that provoked an answering smile from him.

‘OK. We are about five light years from Earth, or around twenty five per cent of the distance to Delta Pavonis.’

‘Very good,’ she said brightly, touching the comp pad’s screen. ‘And the starship we’re on?’

Vinter sighed. ‘Why all this obsession with my memory?’

‘It’s part of the re-orientation process, along with the physical rehab. We’ve never dealt with people who have been in the cryosleep chambers for this length of time, so we’re carrying out research into all elements of it - physical, mental and emotional. This is simply covering information you were given during pre-launch briefing - how well do you remember it?’

He shrugged. ‘OK. This starship - the Terra Nova - is about six hundred metres long, more or less cylinder shaped, with a huge ablation shield of frozen deuterium in the bows to absorb cosmic debris - at the kind of speed we’re doing, even a relatively small object could do us a lot of damage. The deuterium also doubles as propellant for the engines. The Habitat Section is a torus shaped section positioned just behind the ice shield that rotates around the ship’s central axis, supplying a simulated gravity equal to about seventy per cent of Earth’s. The rest of the ship doesn’t rotate in relation to the external universe and is thus under weightless conditions. This section, which is about five hundred metres in length, includes the engineering sections and the cryosleep chambers. We’ve accelerated up to our maximum speed, which is about point zero six of lightspeed, so the engine’s been shut down and we will be cruising for most of the rest of the journey. The ship will be rotated at the end of the voyage for deceleration, but that won’t be for a while yet–’

‘Cryosleep chambers?’

‘They house about two thousand people who are, basically, deep frozen. Do not ask me to explain the science behind that, because I haven’t a clue, but, basically, the idea is that most of them will stay in their chambers all the way to Delta Pavonis where they will then be revived at PlanetFall. Long range telescopes and spectroscopic analyis indicate that there is a planet there that will be at least borderline habitable - these sleepers are colonists.’ His voice took on a sing-song quality. ‘Of these, a couple of hundred are designated ship’s crew and will be awoken on a rotational basis to man the Terra Nova for two year shifts. In reality, these will only be needed for routine maintenance work - most of the ship’s operations will be carried out by automatic machines run by computers. There are various specialist teams in the chambers who will be revived if there are any in-flight emergencies. Well, minor ones, anyway - if anything major happens, we probably won’t know anything about it anyway. Now there’s a cheery thought...’ He looked across at Ilona and shrugged. ‘Do I pass?’

‘Very good,’ she said, smiling. ‘You really are recovering exceptionally well - memory-wise, anyway.’

‘But not physically?’

She pursed her lips for a moment, considering, then nodded. ‘Ahead of schedule, I’d say - but we need more physiotherapy.’

‘Oh, great... I can hardly wait.’ He held up his hand as she rose to her feet. ‘Just a minute.’ His eyes were fixed on the view outside, of the star field sliding slowly ever downwards as the Habitat Section rotated. I’ve always wanted to go into space... now I have.

She followed his gaze. ‘Yes, I know,’ she murmured. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe... An image of a man’s face with very blond or almost white hair, rain streaming down his features... Tears in rain...

A clip from an old movie - but what the bloody hell was it called?

And just what was the matter with his memory?

* * *

He winced as she dug her knuckles into his shoulder blade, then gasped involuntarily as she began pummelling his back. ‘Are you enjoying this?’ he asked, his voice muffled by the fact that he was lying face down, staring down at the floor through the gap in the massage table.

‘Actually, I am,’ Ilona replied lightly. ‘Are you?’

‘No.’

‘Relax - this is good for you.’

‘I’ll take your word for that.’

They were back in the Med Lab and, again, they were alone. It had dawned on Vinter that, apart from Ilona and Dr. Al-Nashrawi, he had spoken to virtually no one since his revival. Yes, they had passed people in corridors and there had been three others in the Star Lounge, but nobody had so much as acknowledged their presence. He’d asked Ilona about that; her explanation had been that there were never that many people awake at any given moment - each shift only had about forty crew members - and he was obviously a new revival. ‘And?’ he’d asked.

‘Everybody is under instructions to leave new revivals alone, if they’re being supervised by a medic. It’s so that the newly awoken can deal with any feelings of disorientation - the medics can help them through that.’

‘Are these disoriented feelings common?’

‘Apparently, yes. It’s a pattern that’s emerged already. To be honest–’ She’d broken off abruptly.

‘To be honest?’

‘OK,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I think the specialists are becoming worried that if there’s this level of confusion or disorientation after being in cryosleep for eighty odd years, what might it be like for those who aren’t revived until PlanetFall?’

‘I see what you mean. Is that why you’re so interested in my memory?’

‘Yes. It’s becoming standard procedure.’

‘Becoming?’

‘Yes. Look, it’s a new technology - we’re almost making it up as we go along. In an ideal world, there’d have been years of research put into this before we’d even have thought about trying it out on human volunteers.’

‘But it wasn’t exactly an ideal world, was it?’

‘No... it wasn’t.’ They’d reached the Med Lab at that point, effectively ending the conversation, but now, Vinter decided to resume it, if only to take his mind off the very intense massage she was giving him. Yes, it would help restore his muscles, but wasn’t there a less painful method?

‘Ilona?’ he asked, trying not to let out a grunt of pain as her knuckles dug deep into his gluteal muscles.

‘Yes?’

‘How long does this disorientation you mentioned last for, generally?’

‘It varies. On average, about three to four days. After that, they’re generally passed as fit for duty and off they go. They still have to come back for another four or five physiotherapy sessions before they’re passed as fully fit, though - only having a maximum of less than three quarter gravity doesn’t help with that, to be honest.’

‘And you had to go through it?’

‘Yes. I was signed off after three days.’ There was a hint of pride in her voice.

‘Including the final physios?’

‘Yes - but they were fast-tracking me.’

‘Why?’

‘So that I could supervise you. You’re being fast-tracked as well, which is why this is all being done on a one-to-one basis - you must be pretty important.’

‘Ow...’ he gasped as she did something to the back of his right knee. ‘I could probably do with just a little less fast-tracking at the moment, thank you.’

‘Orders, I’m afraid. Whatever they want you for, it’s urgent.’

‘You don’t know why?’

‘I was hoping you might tell me - it’s all very hush-hush. In fact...’ Her voice trailed off suddenly.

‘In fact?’

‘Nothing,’ she said dismissively. ‘Forget I said anything.’

‘Ilona, I’m a police officer, when all’s said and done - I’m not allowed to forget things. So... you were saying?’

‘OK, I don’t suppose it matters, really. They’ve only revived me specifically for this - for you, that is. Once you’re passed fit, I go back into the Zombie Pits - sorry, I mean the Cryosleep Chambers.’

Vinter chuckled. ‘Is that what you call them?’

‘We all do - the Cryosleep Team, that is. I’m actually a Senior Specialist - not quite a doctor, but with more practical knowledge of revival techniques and cryosleep rehabilitation than most of those who are.’ There was an undertone of bitterness in her voice. ‘And I’m under strict instructions not to talk to anyone about you being revived - that’s what I meant about hush-hush. In fact, I’m not supposed to be asking you any questions at all, apart from the memory related ones.’

‘Don’t worry - I won’t tell anyone if you won’t. How do you feel about going straight back into the Pits?’

‘I don’t know, really. I wasn’t supposed to be revived at all until PlanetFall, but a few days here and now won’t make much difference. Except...’

‘Yes?’

‘I could have done without knowing about the disorientation issues. Now, I’m starting to worry about waking up with my brain completely scrambled.’ He heard her giggle momentarily. ‘Mind you, some would wonder how you’d notice.’ She leaned over him, placed her forearm at the base of his spine and ran it upwards towards his neck, pressing down hard and forcing an involuntary grunt out of him; she repeated this twice more, then stepped back. ‘That’s you done, Mister VIP,’ she said.

‘Until when?’ he asked, moving himself around so that he was sitting on the table; all he was wearing was a pair of boxer shorts.

‘For good - you’re officially passed fit for duty.’

‘What - completely? No more physios?’

‘At least try and look disappointed... No, that’s the lot.’

‘I thought you said three days minimum.’

‘That’s what it’s supposed to be, but you are fully rehabilitated now. In just twenty four hours - well done.’ Her expression changed from light-hearted, almost flirtatious, to a more pensive look. ‘Seriously, Inspector, you are in A1 physical condition. I didn’t believe them when they told me that it would only take twenty-four hours, but they were right.’

‘I suspect that was more a tribute to your skills than anything else.’

‘Maybe...’ She seemed about to say something more, then shrugged. ‘Anyway, get dressed and I’ll take you to your quarters.’

* * *

Spartan would be a generous way to describe this, Vinter thought as he looked around the unit that he would be calling home for the foreseeable future. There was a large bed in an alcove off to the left of the door, a small kitchen dead ahead that would, he knew, contain little more than a microwave and a sink and a bathroom next to it that would contain a toilet, sink and shower. The main living area had a two-seat sofa facing a large wall-screen to the right, that, at the moment, showed a still image of an old painting, The Fighting Temeraire; Vinter knew that the screen also doubled as a TV. Next to the door was a desktop computer set-up with a single swivel chair in front of it - and that, apart from the walls that were pastel blue, was about it. Even so, he knew that this level of accommodation was higher than most - this was a two-person unit, as shown by the wider bed, which meant that he had marginally more space to swing the metaphorical cat; presumably, he had been allocated this unit because of his UNSEC rank.

‘Here you are, home sweet home,’ Ilona said, following him in. ‘Damn sight bigger than mine. Do you want me to show you where everything is, or can you remember the briefings?’ There was a slight emphasis on ‘remember’, accompanied by an ironic smile.

‘Yes, I do remember,’ he said gravely.

‘There is one thing, though - you’ll find some microwave meals in the fridge. You’ll have to stick to those for the next week or so - they’ll fit in with your dietary needs.’

‘So I’m still under your supervision?’

‘Officially you are, yes, at least until oh eight hundred tomorrow - that’s when I sign you off.’

‘Oh eight hundred? So we’re still sticking to terrestrial times of day, then?’ He saw her quizzical look, and added, ‘I know that was what was intended - my memory isn’t playing me up there, in case you were wondering - but I thought maybe they’d have changed it by now.’

She shook her head. ‘Apparently not - I think it’s been suggested but the decision was that they would keep shipboard life as much like on Earth as possible.’

‘So today is?’

‘Thursday.’

‘Well, at least it isn’t a Monday - never could stand them. OK, so what happens once you’ve signed me off? Do you go back to the Zombie Pits?’

‘Don’t remind me. I think that’s what pisses me off, actually - pardon my French. You’re obviously important and so I suppose it’s a compliment to me that they chose me to supervise you, but I don’t suppose I’ll ever know what this was all about. Well, not for another two hundred and fifty years, anyway, when it’ll all be ancient history.’

‘Sorry about that, but I honestly don’t know what this is all about either.’ Although reviving the Head of the UN Security Unit under conditions of strict secrecy doesn’t sound too promising - something’s gone drastically wrong, by the looks of it...

She was staring at him now with that considering look that he had come to associate with her wanting to ask him an awkward question that he might not want to answer and the thought occurred to him that they had spent virtually all of the last twenty-four hours together - she had not slept, either, although this was usual during the early days of revival, apparently. In that time, he had learned to read her expressions pretty well, but, despite this, he realised he knew almost nothing about her - Call yourself a policeman? ‘Go on, Ilona - ask your question,’ he said, gently.

A momentary expression of surprise crossed her face, then she nodded. ‘Some day, will you tell me what this was all about?’

‘If I can, yes.’

‘Thanks... Another question - is it OK if I grab a meal for myself as well? It’s either that or go and eat alone. This’ll be the last meal I have for another two hundred and fifty years, so - well - I’d rather eat it in company. If that’s OK.’

‘Of course you can. I’d hate to eat alone as well.’

Again, she gave him that look, then said, softly, ‘And would you seriously object if I spent the night here as well?’ She shrugged, a teasing smile on her face. ‘The same reason - this’ll be my last chance for two and a half centuries, after all.’

He stared at her, not so much for her directness - let’s face it, women have had equality in that respect for decades now - but for the realisation that, somehow, he had known that she was going to make the offer - had known ever since they had arrived in his quarters, in fact.

How?

And this was hardly the time to be looking gift horses in the mouth... ‘Well, as I’m still under your supervision, I suppose you’ll have to...’

* * *

‘Oh God, yes...’ she whispered, hoarsely, her hips moving rapidly to and fro now in an uncontrollable rhythm, ‘Yes... just like that, yes...’ She was straddling him, staring intently down at him until, suddenly, she gave a strangled cry and fell forward onto him, clutching frantically at his shoulders as he thrust urgently up into her, her climax triggering his and - Anji...

Anji?

Who the... Don’t say it!

He only just managed not to gasp out the name as he emptied himself into the woman above him - Ilona, her name’s Ilona, for Christ’s sake – and simply held her close, nuzzling her ear and stroking her hair as their movements gradually subsided... Anji? Who the hell was Anji?

‘Chris...’ she breathed into his shoulder, still holding on tightly to him, but then she lifted her head and smiled into his eyes. ‘Wow...’ she said, dreamily. ‘I think I can safely say that you are fully recovered, Inspector. I can personally vouch for that.’

‘Takes two to tango,’ he said, still slightly breathless, touching her gently on the cheek. ‘You were terrific, Ilona. Many thanks.’

‘The best in eighty-odd years, you mean?’ she asked, grinning.

‘Oh, yes, definitely,’ he chuckled. But that hadn’t been with anyone called Anji, had it? It was Livvy - Olivia - wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

‘And for me.’ She kissed him briefly on the lips, then lifted herself away from him and off the bed. ‘Won’t be a minute,’ she said, over her shoulder and headed for the bathroom.

Vinter watched her slim figure until she slid the door closed behind her, then lay back, smiling to himself, but the grin faded as he recalled the name that had come into his head: Anji.